Snowforest Taiga you dangle on the leash of your own longing

She was so much more outgoing than he was, or at least she seemed to be. Maybe that was because he'd spent his life traveling. Were those who spent more time with family and less time inside their own heads more prone to being extroverts? That made sense to Ephraim, for what sense he could make of it at his age, but surely it was more than that. Maybe because she was a girl? Raleska had been just as sheltered as he but he remembered her as very outgoing. He couldn't remember her face, could barely recall her name, but he remembered the demanding way she'd spoken, her insistence on forcing him into adventures with her when they were little. But maybe she was different now.

Currituck wasn't demanding like Raleska had been, or at least her first impression wasn't. She seemed happy, happier than anyone Ephraim had been around in a very long time. Trigeda had celebrated their victory in the war, but it wasn't with the carefree waggle of a tail and a sunny grin. It was with a warriors' resolute, if rowdy, war cry. Ephraim was capable of moments of silly boyishness, but now it seemed all of that had fled, leaving him shy and aloof. His ears stayed tipped back until she spoke in a spidery language unlike he had ever heard, turning his expression quizzical.

"What did you say?" he asked, this time in Trigedasleng in case she knew that tongue too. The words of Drageda were short and stunted, a little like the common tongue if he listened closely enough, but too different to make out with ease. Currituck's tongue was as unlike it as the roaring of beasts or the crashing of waves on the shore. The words were long and flowed together, comprised of harsh and repetitive sounds. "I'm Ephraim," he tried quietly in a language he hoped they might have in common.